


Music of the Past

by Aeruthin



Series: Original Family Short Stories [18]
Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Music, Musicians, Parent-Child Relationship, Piano, Reconciliation, Sparring, Vampires, much needed discussions, shared love for music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeruthin/pseuds/Aeruthin
Summary: Set in between s2 and s3.After Elijah spots an old gift in Marcel's music room, he and Marcel have a much needed discussion about recent events and their past.
Relationships: Marcel Gerard & Elijah Mikaelson
Series: Original Family Short Stories [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1475669
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Music of the Past

Marcel steps out of the path of Elijah's swing, barely avoiding being hit. He is panting heavily and his muscles tremble from the exertion, so he backs away, creating some distance between them. 

To his credit, Elijah doesn't look much better off than he is. Elijah is drenched in sweat. While his arms are held loosely in a defensive position, his body is tense, and his expression dark and focussed. 

Not much of improvement compared to the start of their sparring session. Marcel had hoped that a friendly fight could ease some of the turmoil lurking beneath the surface of the older vampire, but no such luck. Prolonging the fight wouldn't be of use either, so Marcel raises his hand in surrender.

"Alright, I'm beat. Let's call it a day." 

He isn't lying either. It's a miracle the ring is still standing.

For a second, Elijah doesn't react, but then he nods and trails his hand through his soaked hair. Without a word, he grabs the closest water bottle and tilts his head back, gulping the water down. Marcel takes off the wraps around his wrists and hands, and jumps out of the ring. His footsteps reverberate in the empty church as he makes his way to his bag. 

Marcel would have loved to challenge Father Kieran to a sparring session. Like his niece, Kieran had had more fighting spirit than most had given him credit for. He would have appreciated the ring, if begrudgingly.

"You wanna shower at my place?" 

"My own shower is in perfect working order," Elijah responds absent-mindedly. He is unwrapping the protective bindings around his wrists and knuckles with a nearly obsessive precision.

"Not what I asked," Marcel says pointedly.

Elijah glances at him and frowns, as if he already has forgotten the previous remark. Marcel shakes his head. 

"Come on." 

He slaps Elijah on the shoulder, and before Elijah can react, Marcel pushes past him. 

"I'll drive."

***

"You go first," Marcel offers when they enter his apartment. Elijah nods and moves to the shower. Marcel would joke about joining him, if his audience had been a little more receptive. Instead, he pours two glasses of bourbon and takes a sip. He'll probably need the drink before the evening is over.

Their relation had shifted after Gia died and the other vampires were massacred by Klaus and his lovely Aunt Dahlia. Once again, everything he had build had gone up in flames, and he and Elijah were the oldest pure vampires left in New Orleans, connected through shared grief. 

Elijah doesn't take long in the shower, and when he steps out into the main area, he is dressed in a clean white shirt and black trousers. His black tie is thrown casually around his neck, which Marcel decides is a good sign.

The hot water helps to relieve Marcel's own tension, and he lets it wash over him. Starting a fight club had been an impulsive decision, but one which would pay off. The recruits could train and work together before he turned them. Hopefully a different start would result in a different ending. 

After he finishes showering, he finds Elijah standing in the door entrance to his music room, leaning against the door frame. His back is turned towards Marcel, and does not seem to be aware of his presence, so Marcel coughs discretely. Elijah's head snaps up, but he relaxes again when he spots him.

"You can enter, you know," Marcel offers. He's quite sure his piano has drawn Elijah's attention. 

Elijah hesitates, but then steps forward, disappearing into the small room. Marcel grabs the two glasses of bourbon which are left on the table, and follows him. The music room is lit with soft yellow light, and the piano is positioned in the centre, taking up most of the space. Marcel has also collected three guitars, a ukulele and a strange instrument which he doesn't know the name of. Gia's violin used to be stored there as well, but now Elijah has it hidden somewhere safe.

Marcel hands over one of the glasses and takes a sip himself.

"Lovely, isn't she?" he says to break the silence. "Tuts Washington used to play on this one. As did Professor Longhair."

"Did you play with them?" Elijah asks curiously.

Marcel nods and smiles, feeling strangely proud. "I did, yeah. They taught me what it's really like to play jazz."

Little could surpass the atmosphere of that time period, when the music had taken control of the city, spreading to every street corner, pub and house. For the first time, Marcel had experienced different sense of community, one not connected to vampires and their age old disputes, but instead to creation and brotherhood. 

He walks over to one of the cabinets, filled with the records he had collected over the years. 

"Got some of them to record for me too. Although it would have been better to hear it live."

Elijah runs his fingers over the records, studying them thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry I missed it."

Marcel looks away, trying to ignore the flicker of guilt in his stomach. He takes another sip from his drink and scans the shelves to distract himself. His eye catches on one of his more personal possessions, and he freezes. He had forgotten he had placed it here, and he isn't sure if he wants Elijah to know about it. 

Elijah's eyes narrow at his reaction.

"What is it?" 

Marcel forces a smile. "It's nothing." He tries to think of an excuse, but his mind remains blank.

"Marcellus?"

Marcel takes a deep breath, quickly weighing his options. Then he relents. No one could say that he wasn't brave. He grabs the worn out music book from the shelf. Its pages have discoloured over the decades, and the ink has slightly faded, but it is still readable.

Marcel holds it out to Elijah, who takes it with a frown. When he reads the title page, he stills. His eyes flicker to Marcel and back, his expression unreadable. Marcel's heart is pounding and his hands are clammy. To his annoyance, he feels like he is a child again, waiting for his guardian's approval.

Elijah turns the first page, and trails the letters which are written there. Marcel knows them by heart, as they are quite easy to remember. As he does the moment he first read them. 

***

_1821_

Marcellus tiptoes down the stairs towards the dining room, where breakfast has been laid out, trying to be as non intrusive as possible. There is no one else to be seen, so he settles down on one of the chairs. Although he is hungry, he doesn't dare take any of the food. Better to wait until he is sure that he is allowed to. He still can't quite grasps the change in his life. Only a few months before, he had been a slave. Now, he lives in the house of one of the wealthiest families in New Orleans, the house which for so long had been impenetrable for people like him.

After some wait, in which nothing happens and no one chases him away from the table, Marcellus pours himself some water and grabs one of the freshly baked breads, his stomach winning from his mind. Before he can take a bite, however, footsteps echo through the courtyard. Hastily, he puts it back and wipes any evidence on his trousers.

"Good morning, Marcellus", a deep voice rings out. To Marcellus' relief, it is Elijah. Even though Klaus is the one who saved him, and gave him the very name with which Elijah addresses him now, Klaus also puts him on edge. His behaviour and mood are hard to predict.

"Good morning," he replies politely. Elijah sits down next to him in one of the chairs. He is holding a parcel, wrapped in brown paper. His gaze roams over the table.

"Have you eaten?" Elijah asks. Marcellus shakes his head. Instinctively he lowers his shoulders. 

"Well, please do. You can't start this day on an empty stomach."

Marcellus nods and flashes a smile, before he grabs the bread he just put away and dutifully adds toppings. From the corner of his eye he sees Elijah take some fruit, and he relaxes a little. 

"Do you know what day it is today?" Elijah asks.

Marcellus freezes. His mind spins. Keeping track of the date had never been part of his education, the little he had received, so the concept was foreign to him. Their days had been defined by how much the crops had grown.

"The tenth of October?" he guesses. As soon as he says it he knows he's wrong. It had been the eighth last week, so it must be later than the tenth. 

Elijah tilts his head. "Not quite, but close enough. It's the fourteenth."

He taps with his finger on the table. "Now, I have taken the liberty to look into the register to see when you were born."

Marcellus frowns. He knows that the slave owners kept track of their property, but fails to see how it is relevant. His stomach clenches, as it always does at any thought related to his real father. 

Elijah holds out the parcel to him.

"Happy birthday, Marcellus."

Marcellus stares at the gift in shock. His body refuses to move. He has never been gifted anything before, let alone on his birthday. That was normally reserved for kings and queens. 

"It's rude not to accept a gift," Elijah encourages, a small smile on his lips. Marcellus reaches out with a shaking hand. His fingers tremble as he takes of the brown paper, and reveals a book. Elegant letters are embossed on the shiny front page. He flips it open and stares at the handwritten note. _Bonne anniversaire,_ it reads in French. Happy Birthday. To Marcellus Gerard, from Elijah Mikaelson. 

Marcellus swallows, and has to blink away the tears filling his eyes. The book is full of music sheets, ranging from Bach to Mozart, names he now recognizes, as well as some more obscure and modern composers. 

"I designed the collection myself, and had it custom printed in New York City," Elijah explains. "Most of the pieces are above your skill level at the moment, but I have no doubt you will be able to play them all some day."

"Thank you," Marcellus manages to whispers, staring down at the very first gift he has ever received. He wants to say more, wants to express how grateful he is, not just for the gift, for everything, but he is loudly interrupted by Klaus, who strides towards them.

"Brother! Marcellus!"

He comes to a stop next to the table.

"Good morning, Niklaus," Elijah greets. 

Klaus looks down at the music book in Marcellus' hands.

"Elijah has already given you his present I see," Klaus says, a crooked smile on his face. "Wait until you see mine. Come on."

He walks away, clearly expecting to be followed. Marcellus glances at Elijah, who nods. "Go on. I'll make sure to place it at the piano for you."

Marcellus gives him back the book, and scrambles after Klaus, both scared and excited. 

Klaus gives him his own pony that day, with the promise of teaching him how to ride. It was the first and best birthday he had had in his life.

***

_Present_

"You kept it," Elijah says softly. His gaze is far away. 

Marcel nods. "I found it in the attic, after you all left." He pauses. "Never got around to playing them, though."

Elijah closes the music book, and holds it out for Marcel to take. Marcel reaches out, but then hesitates. The thought which plays through his mind is treacherous, threatening to upheave feelings he thought he buried a long time ago. 

"You could teach me how to play them," he offers. Inside, he curses how pleading his voice sounds. Elijah stiffens. He takes a deep breath and flashes a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"I'm sure you are capable enough to figure it out yourself," he says, and presses the music book in Marcel's hands, who has no choice but to take it as Elijah strides away and out of the room. 

Thrown of guard, Marcel quickly places the music book back in its stand and rushes after the older vampire.

"Elijah, wait."

Elijah has grabbed his coat, clearly aiming to leave. "Goodnight, Marcellus."

"Come on, you're really gonna be like this?" Marcel demands, irritation rising. "You're going to push me away like you did back then?"

Elijah's eyes narrow and he tenses, and Marcel can nearly see his defences slamming up. However much Elijah tried to deny it, when it comes to stubbornness and pride, he is very similar to his brother.

"What I do, or don't do, is none of your concern."

"Well in this case, it very much is." 

Marcel advances, placing himself right in front of the older vampire. He is done handling him with kid gloves, waiting for him to explode. 

"You owe me an explanation."

There, he said it. Elijah's gaze is dark, but Marcel meets it head on. He hadn't planned on confronting Elijah about their past this evening, or ever, for that matter, but he isn't going to back down now. 

"You of all people should know the pain a father figure can cause."

Elijah goes completely rigid. It's a low blow, and Marcel knows it. But he has learned the hard way that those are sometimes necessary to get through to a Mikaelson.

For a split second, Marcel is sure that Elijah is going to leave anyway, that he pushed him too far. But then Elijah sighs and looks away. His shoulders drop, and Marcel can nearly see the exhaustion settling over him. When he lifts his eyes again, there is a quiet resignation in them.

"We will probably need another drink," Elijah says, and Marcel's own tension disperses. 

"Yeah," he says, irritation shifting into tiredness, and walks over to the cabinet. He grabs two new glasses, fills them and hands one to Elijah, who has placed his coat back on the rack.

Marcel crashes into the couch and takes a large gulp. Elijah remains standing, leaning against a cabinets. Marcel allows him to gather his thoughts. He really isn't sure himself if he is ready for opening this particular can of worms. 

"Do you remember the day Kol forced you to drink his blood?" Elijah asks him after a while.

"Of course." He had been terrified. It was one of the main reasons why he hadn't wanted Kol and Davina together. "You daggered him afterwards, if I recall correctly." 

Elijah nods. "Had Kol been left unattended, you would have been turned within the week." 

His voice is slightly strained. 

"A child vampire, unable to grow old."

Marcel had seen a couple of cases like that. Children who were turned, and cursed to be forever trapped in their immature bodies. It was a miserable existence, and they usually didn't survive long. 

"Kol's further resurrection had to be prevented at all costs, at least until you were of age." Elijah pauses. "Which meant that Niklaus had to be given something else to occupy his time with." 

His eyes flicker to Marcel. 

"Or someone."

Marcel tilts his head. 

"So what, you pushed me away so Klaus could have a go at parenting?"

"You know my brother. He does not do well when people take away what he considers to be his."

Elijah's gaze is dark. The recent events hang heavily in the air.

Marcel stands, unable to keep still. Anger is once again rising in his gut. Klaus had indeed filled in the void which Elijah had left, taking over his education and spending more time with him. It had not softened the blow of Elijah's dismissal.

"Didn't mean you had to take it out on me."

"Neither does he like to share," Elijah adds, an edge to his voice. He steps away from the cabinet. "If I had continued spending time with you, the same cycle would have repeated itself. I'd rather had you hate me, than see you dead. Or worse."

"So once again, you danced to Klaus' tunes."

Marcel turns away from Elijah, unable to look at him any longer. He feels sick. Because deep inside, he can't even fault Elijah for his logic, and where does that leave them? 

"I am sorry," Elijah says softly. "I should never have allowed myself to stand between you and him."

Marcel spins back around. "That's bullshit!" he snarls. "You took care of me. I liked being with you. Klaus should have let us be."

Elijah doesn't answer, and he doesn't have to. Marcel is fully aware of the impossibility of that statement, has experienced Klaus' jealousy and paranoia for himself for over a century. Has been driven to extreme lengths to free himself of it.

"I was a child," Marcel says, his throat tightening. 

"I know."

Elijah gaze is full of pity and understanding, and Marcel has to look away before it completely breaks him. 

"And I was fine until you all showed back up," he continues. "The vampires were fine. The city was fine."

Elijah remains silent. 

"I should have left," Marcel admits, running a hand over his face. "I should have left with Rebekah when she asked me to."

The silence stretches.

"Why didn't you?" Elijah asks finally.

Because when Klaus had offered him a place at his side, even after Marcel's betrayal, when Marcel should have felt angry and vindictive for the men and women he lost, part of him had felt pleased instead. And when Klaus had offered him back the reigns of the city, Marcel had been satisfied.

Klaus' approval meant too much to him, even after everything that happened.

"New Orleans is my home," he says instead. And it is true. The cursed city was the only place he could create something for himself. Make it his own. And he was not ready to give that up. Not for anyone.

Elijah's gaze is heavy. He offers no reassurance, no comfort that it will all be alright, not with Hayley out suffering in the woods and Gia dead and buried. 

But Marcel will not back down. That much Klaus had taught him. He will find a way to rebuild New Orleans. He will help Elijah bring back Hayley. He is not a little child in need of rescue. 

Marcel throws the remaining of his drink down his throat and grins, dispelling the gloom.

"So, are you up for playing the music pieces together?"

Elijah rocks back, surprised, but then inclines his head, lips curling up.

"Yes, Marcel. It would be my pleasure."


End file.
